I Think My Chemistry Teacher is from Hell
by LaHufflepuffGamer
Summary: Robyn Starling is kind of messed up. She can make pencils burst into flame without touching them. She can distort what people see and believe. She can see shadows and talk and listen to them. And all of this ends her up in detention with Ms. Deena, her chemistry teacher. While Robyn has met some nasty people (and things) in her life, no one was like Ms. Deena.


Detention was absolute agony. It had to be around 100 degrees in the tiny stuffed classroom, and it didn't help that Ms. Deena, my chemistry teacher, was glaring daggers at me as if it was _my_ fault some guy's pencil burst into flames. Well, technically it was _._ But it's not like I did it on _purpose_.

Oh. Well this is a nice way to introduce myself. The name is Robyn Starling. I'm a Junior in High School. I can't say which, since it's never the same one each year. You see, I'm kind of screwed up. And by screwed up, I mean that I can make pencils explode, random items float, and I can talk to shadows that no one else can see. See? Screwed up.

Anyway, as I had mentioned earlier, I can make pencils burst into flame by just thinking about it. Sooo, yeah. That's why I'm in detention right now. And—to put it shortly—it sucks. It's unbearably hot, Ms. Deena's icy glare wasn't helping, and of course my ADD wasn't helping.

"Got any issues, Miss Starling?" Ms. Deena hissed through clenched teeth. "If you have, I'm sure I can find a way to _fix it._ "

For a moment, she bended over behind her desk and sat up, as if she had picked something up. While I couldn't see it, I swear it was casting an orange glow on her leathery saggy face.

"No ma'am," I muttered, also through clenched teeth. I forced my gaze back to my detention worksheet. No matter how hard I tried, my mind always drifted away.

"What are you looking at?" Ms. Deena snapped, making me nearly jump out of my skin. It almost felt like she teleported right next to me in the blink of an eye. I don't think any normal teacher could do that.

"She was just thinking, ma'am," said a voice in the back, and I almost melted in relief at my rescue.

I threw a grateful glance at Grover, the Teacher's Assistant. He was sitting in the back of the classroom. He had curly auburn hair and terrible acne, but he was the only reason why I resisted the urge to claw my eyeballs out during detention.

Grover smiled in return. Suddenly he pulled a smartphone out of one of his baggy pockets and his smile wavered to a look of panic.

This didn't surprise me. While I didn't know what was making him panic, I knew his chill demeanor wouldn't last for long. I think he was terrified of Ms. Deena, and whenever he got scared he made this nervous bleating noise. To put it simply, I saw him as a wimp.

45 minutes later, I managed to answer around 5 questions when the bell rang. I literally jumped out of my seat and ran out of the classroom, ignoring Ms. Deena growling my name.

I skidded to a halt in surprise when someone else called my name, but instead of sounding murderous it sounded panicked. Grover.

I turned and saw him trotting towards me in his ridiculous limp-like skip. A few times he would pause to give one of his legs a jerk, as if he was trying to keep shoes on that were too big for him.

By the time he reached me, he was out of breath. "Robyn," he gasped. "Y…you're in….danger!" The Rasta cap he was wearing was tilting to the side, but he didn't seem to notice. He was pale as flour, and his eyes were wide, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. If he wouldn't have looked so frightened, I would have assumed he was joking.

I eyed Grover suspiciously. While he did make detention more bearable, I still didn't know him that well. He could be delusional for all I know. Still, I humored him.

"Danger…of what?" I asked him hesitantly, stepping away as slowly as I could. But Grover only stepped forward, and I had the nervous urge to hit him with my backpack. It waspretty heavy, after all.

Grover stared at me as if I asked him if the Earth was flat. "Danger of Ms. Dodds, of course!"

Yep. Definitely delusional. I just shook my head in frustration, the urge to swing my backpack at him growing. "Grover, I don't _have_ a Ms. Dodds! What the heck are you talking about?"

Grover grew even paler. "Did I say that? Oh…yeah, I did. Must be because of Percy…" He shook his head violently, as if trying to dry wet hair like an animal. His Rasta cap fell off. He yelped and jammed it back on.

Grover took a deep breath and stepped back, suddenly realizing that he was making me nervous. "Holy Hera," he breathed. "I am so sorry, Robyn. It's just been so long…"

This was the last straw. I hefted my bag into a grip and glared at him. "Explain," I demanded, growling like Ms. Deena. "Now. You have ten seconds!"

Grover gulped. "T-Ten seconds? I—I don't know if I can! Um, let's see…" His lower lip quivered as if he was about to burst into tears.

Since that was one of he last things I wanted to see, I relaxed a bit and said gruffly, "Fine. I'll give you all the time you need as long as we do it _outside_ of here."

Grover looked so relieved that I almost felt sorry for threatening him. Almost. "Good," he breathed shakily. "Let's go."


End file.
